


Guided Hands

by Dreadful Weather Today (TearoomSaloon)



Series: Bedroom Hymns [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Breast Play, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Voice Kink, directed masturbation, sort of, we know she's really just getting off to his voice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/Dreadful%20Weather%20Today
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He would sit across the room, a bored smile on his face while honeyed directions dripped from his tongue. She obeyed, she always obeyed. She was a puppet and he controlled her climax with strings made of sentences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guided Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was for dom!Hannibal and sub!Alana.  
> And I guess it's sort of like that. Um.  
> He's controlling all her actions. With his words. Across the room.  
> Smarmy bastard.

He had an adoration of mind games, and his fondness carried over into most, if not all, aspects of his life. Alana was quick to learn his bedroom tendencies and they were...well...an  _adventure_.

"You are to slowly cup your breasts."

She was settled into the middle of his bed in her underwear, the sheets pushed down at the foot. He sat fully dressed in one of the chairs by the fire, looking politely bored with it all.

Alana did so, watching him carefully. This was his worst form of torture, and she knew he wouldn't let her get off for a long, long time.

"No, eyes closed."

Right, right, she was supposed to be tricking herself into thinking her hands were his hands.

"Describe the sensation to me."

Such a bizarre man. "Smooth, like satin. Peaches hidden behind a chiffon veil. Soft, almost like a liquid caught in velvet. Supple, not firm."

"And your nipples?"

"Puckered, pebbled, would probably feel good under a tongue."

"Not yet. Take your bra off and begin to knead them."

She obeyed, tossing the black bra away and lying back into the pillows. Her breasts fit beautifully into her palms—something they did not do in Hannibal's large hands. He made her feel inadequate (made all the more unfortunate by his attraction to them. Tits and teeth were his greatest passions). She enjoyed any excuse to fondle herself in front of him, and took far too much pleasure in the act, making little noises in between each circular motion.

"Are you getting off to this?"

"No."

What a waste.

"How are you feeling right now?"

"Heavy, aroused, hot, like I'm soiling your bedsheets through my panties."

"How wet are you? Right hand, Alana."

She grudgingly removed a hand from her breast and sneaked it slowly into her black lace underwear, testing one finger inside. "Very, feels like I've just come, to be honest."

"Have you?"

"No, you know exactly what that sounds like."

She knew he smirked. "Good. Start fingering yourself, but do not touch your clit yet."

She stroked the outside lips before drawing two fingers inside, knuckles brushing against the wet residue in her panties. She went slowly at first, moving back and forth, then in circles, curving up to—

"Alana, get your fingers away from your g-spot."

How the hell did he—

"Follow my orders, and do not argue. Change positions. On your knees."

She scooted up uncomfortably, lower body screaming for stimulation.

"Bend down so your cheek is to the bed, legs apart. Continue."

She went slowly still, one hand still on a breast.

"Describe."

"Hot, wet. Invitingly warm and ridged, but only slightly. Soft but taut." She bucked her hips into her hand, breath hitching. "I need both hands for this."

"You may have both."

She slipped the second one down and pushed her underwear down and off her rear. She moaned deeply as she started work on her clit, smoky hot and demanding attention. She nudged it in circles, belly full of fire and senses beginning to pull away on the edges.

"You may begin."

His hands were on her breasts right before orgasm started, squeezing and kneading and toying, sending tingles down her spine. She lost herself, the world turning into white noise as she called breathlessly for him.

Alana collapsed onto her side, watching hazily as Hannibal lay down beside her. "That wasn't so horrible, was it?"

"You were giving directions."

"And?"

"Better deal from your end."

" _You_  got to climax at the end, I'd wager your position is more enviable."

"...It's going to cost me, isn't it?"

"Of course. You're going to lie in my lap and I'm going to play with your breasts for an hour or so. That's your price."

She sat up, licking her fingers teasingly. "Then we'll have a joint session?"

"Depends on how worn out you become. You're going to need those fingers."


End file.
